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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108691">I'll Bring You Home (Where You Belong)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayondeneige/pseuds/Rayondeneige'>Rayondeneige</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Feels, But is it really?, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Daenerys Targaryen, POV Jon Snow, POV Multiple, SO MUCH FLUFF, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unrequited Love, Warnings May Change, additional warning :, but fast friendship, but is it?, kind of?, slowish burn, the narrative is not always realible</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:34:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rayondeneige/pseuds/Rayondeneige</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Years after her soulmate dies, Daenerys is inexplicably drawn to a white house lost in a northern forest, and the brooding man next door. The Gods give them one perfect match. What happens when the chosen one is gone, when they leave them alone in their own mind... when they die?</p>
<p>She would be his if he asked. </p>
<p>He couldn’t be hers, even if he wanted.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arya Stark/Gendry Waters (minor), Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark/Margery Tyrell (minor), but if you squint your eyes you won't see them, past relationships will be mention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I Can Fake my Heart (I Love to Watch it Burn)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey everyone! I am finally finding the courage to post this story here! This is a story I wrote for me, but I am hoping that some of you will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! </p>
<p>I want to thank Hayl for all the help, for the incredible Beta work! every mistake you find is mine, she already fixed all of the other one! I love you! </p>
<p>I just want to warn you that the first two chapters will serve as "prologue" and the tone will shift a bit after that for obvious reasons when you read it! </p>
<p>This is my first fanfiction ever and it is not in my first language. I am open to criticism and I am eager to learn! However, please be kind!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p><br/>Black out, the night before inside of my mouth</p>
<p>Too much it's what I like to do now</p>
<p>My mind explodes and I can't make it out, I'm falling down</p>
<p>I see your face and blurry shades and I reach out for your hand</p>
<p>All your ways I can explain but I want to understand</p>
<p>[…]</p>
<p>Eyes are deep, my mind with hope of your return</p>
<p>Just enough to weigh me down</p>
<p>I can fake my heart and I love to watch it burn</p>
<p>But it knows you ain't alone</p>
<p>My love, I only want you next to me</p>
<p>Sweet love, how long before you hurt for, hurt for me?</p>
<p>Will you hurt for me?</p>
<p>
  <b>Hurt for me—SYML</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b> <strong>Daenerys </strong> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>April </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> What a stupid fucking thing </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In this particular instant, Daenerys hated time and everything that came with it. She dragged her eyes across the skyline of Meereen in front of her, basking in the glowing light of the moon, and she wondered how she missed another nightfall, how she let another day pass by.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Time was such a peculiar thing. It was always supposed to be consistent, reliable, but at the same time it seemed to always adjust to the mood or the feeling. A happy moment seemed to pass too quickly; an hour suddenly becoming a minute and a minute suddenly becoming a second. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the other side, sadness fucked time over.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And with sadness came pain. Pain was the worst. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pain felt like stopping time, keeping the clock in a static position, in a slow path destined only to make pain <em> intolerable, to make it unbearable. </em> It felt like <em> forever to </em> her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt stuck in time, stuck in her pain, not able to get on the other side like it was quicksand the more she tried to move over, the more it was consuming her. It felt as if she could <em> die </em>and never get out of it. She was sinking to the bottom, going back to bones and dust, with nothing to hold on.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was certain that this exact moment of pain would stretch until she was old and grey … and honestly, probably alone. It would stretch until every second of it felt like her last breath, until every second in it would pierce her skin like a bullet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And the gun would be in <em> his </em> hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She wasn’t sure how this happened, how the time stopped here, with her struggling to get to the next minute, with her looking at Meereen without actually seeing it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daenerys was perched on the emergency staircase outside her bedroom window, waiting for something else to happen but hoping it wouldn’t. She was distractedly peeling the black paint from the railing to uncover the rust it was hiding, to uncover a lie so thinly veiled. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Behind her, her bedroom was submerged in darkness, and had been, for much longer than this exact <em> eternal moment </em> .  It was dark for days that were full of minutes that were all glued together to form a week of this misery she once <em> never thought </em> she would feel. It was the perfect reflection of her mind. She was never supposed to feel like this. She always thought she’d be protected against that kind of pain. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> They were never supposed to be like that. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The air was starting to fill with humidity and heat, making her feel like she was living in a dragon’s maw right after it woke up from a long winter. Those first weeks before summer were almost suffocating to her, like she forgot how summer was in the city, like she forgot how to breathe without feeling like inhaling wildfire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She couldn’t find it in herself to care. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t care about the heat, about the suffocating feeling that constricted  her chest, making it suddenly too tight to contain all the organs that were supposed to fit in there. She knew it had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with <em> him, </em>everything to do with the pieces of her heart sinking at the bottom of her body, everything to do with these goddamn eternal minutes that never stop stretching. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a shaky breath, Daenerys closed her eyes, seeing that <em> everything </em> was overrated and unimportant right now. She didn’t want to see anything, to see again the... <em> freckles and </em> the <em> crooked teeth </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was just... <em> too much </em> suffering. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She wanted to <em> see </em> nothing, to feel blackness engulf her and make her forget, for it to make her drown in a <em> sea </em> of nothingness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nothing less. Nothing more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even with her eyes closed, with her brain shut down, she could only see <em> her </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She had freckles scattered all over her skin, matching the red hair dancing against her shoulders that framed her lean face. She was kind of beautiful… even with her crooked teeth and the small bump on the side of her nose. She looked like wildflowers before a storm; untamed and moving with the wind as a kite stuck on the ground, but freer than most.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dany saw <em> her for </em> a second. Maybe three. It was too much, but just enough at the same time... for her brain to register that the woman <em> he </em>chose was nothing like herself, nothing like the one fate chose for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> The girl </em>who looked like fire and felt like wind. </p>
<p><em> Dany </em>who looked like a snowstorm and feels like a fire blaze. </p>
<p>And <em> him </em>? He could look like a stranger forever. but he would always feel like home, like a place only she could go. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She was so fucking stupid.   </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seeking him out would be the easiest thing in the world; a fingertip against the black ink on her hip, a window opening again in her mind to let him in and he would be there in an instant. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Freckles. Red hair. Crooked teeth.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daenerys sank her fingers in the holes forming the bracketed floor under her, gripping the rusty metal to keep herself from calling for him, from touching her mark and letting his warmth flow inside her like a river after opening a dam. She wanted the comfort that only he could provide. It was almost a need. It was as if the ache inside her couldn’t associate this feeling with him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Soulmates were supposed to be forever. Somehow, they were shaped to be together, shaped to fit like a puzzle. They were parts of a whole, part of something bigger than them alone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>All her life she had included him in her plans, in her projects, shaping them to fit the small things she knew about him. She wanted to move back to Westeros, to find the North, and see it for the first time. She just <em> knew </em> he was from there <em> . </em>It was in the snow she could hear around him, in the trees taller than anything she ever saw, in the ice she could hear crunching under his boots and in the condense breath she could feel around his mouth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was supposed to find him. To run across the world, finally go North, and <em> find him </em> . He was <em> supposed </em> to wait for her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When she was ten, Daenerys went to Volantis with her brother and there, a red priestess looked her in the eye and told her they were special. They were one of a kind; a pair of soulmates as old as the earth, with a destiny so much bigger than anything they could imagine.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She believed her. How could she not? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The connection was so strong between them that she could feel him, even across the sea. Meanwhile, people sometimes struggled to feel their soulmate if they weren’t in the same city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She could feel him fuck a girl that looks like a wildflower with freckles, red hair and crooked teeth.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her mind was buzzing like the lights across the street, flickering and irritating. She felt like the implosion of everything she knew had left an annoying ringing in her ear, like she was caught in a bomb she never saw coming and could never escape.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t turn her head when she heard shuffling behind her, knowing without looking that it was Missandei climbing out her window. She just slid on the small platform to make room for her best friend. Dany was trying to direct her attention on the lights shining in the city, looking like thousands of fireflies, and trying to ignore the paper Missandei slipped on her tights, to ignore the questions that would go with it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I found your letter in the trash,” she said calmly, looking her over. It was not a question but it could as well be with the intensity Missandei was looking at her. An answer she didn’t want to give. She didn’t actually <em> have </em> any answer to give. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The letter was burning through her, weighting like a thousand pounds on her legs. She wanted nothing more than to push it over, to watch it fly away with the wind. She couldn’t find the courage to detach her fingers from the floor. She wasn’t sure she would just push the paper away, and be strong enough to resist touching her mark. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dany…” Missy began before Daenerys cut in, not wanting to hear more about the <em> stupid </em>acceptance letter crushing her legs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not going anymore.” She snapped, bitterness slipping from her voice. She couldn’t control her outburst; Missandei was simply the only one <em> here </em>to receive it. Queensgate University seemed to be the last place she should go. Her life path had always pointed north, but at this moment she was ready to swear to herself she would never go there, she would never set one foot north of The Neck. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not? … Dany,” Missandei tried to hide the incredulity in her voice but Dany could hear it anyway, hiding in the sweetness of it. Sometimes, Missandei would take this particular voice with her as if she was talking to a wounded animal ready to jump and run into any corner available just to hide from everything. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She finally moved to look at her friend and meet her eyes. Missandei was looking at her with such compassion; it was almost unbearable to look into her eyes and not cry. “It’s just…” she started, her voice cracking, “I can’t, Missi.” She could feel her lips shaking while she left the rest unsaid. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She can’t go to the North for him. She can’t forget. She can’t move on. She can’t … breathe.   </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Missandei took her hand, gently dislodging her finger from the coldness of the metal as if she knew she couldn’t be trusted with doing it herself. The cold metal was replaced by a warmth she hasn’t felt for days. She didn’t know she needed that before she felt it. It seemed to be the only thing keeping her upright. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did he reach out?” she asked with that same tender voice she hated, but loved at the same time. Dany scoffed, lacing her fingers with hers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Did he reach out? </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was trying to convince herself he had no reason to reach out for her, he had no reason to try and salvage what he broke. She was trying to convince herself he didn’t because he was as heartless as the <em> monster </em> she was making him to be in her mind. The truth was, she knew the buzzing and ringing in her head couldn’t be anything other than <em> him </em> trying to come through the barrier she was building to keep him out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not sure,” she sighed, owing Missandei the truth. She wasn’t really sure she wanted to know. Sometimes, oblivion was the best option, the easiest one. She continued, “I’m trying to turn it off,” <em> the bond, </em>“to block him out.” She turned toward the city again, her hands still trapped between Missandei’s. She felt her tense at her words, and Dany knew it was because she couldn’t bear the thought of disconnecting from a soulmate… She was always so passionate about the idea of it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the last week, Dany opened their bond only as an <em> act of war </em> . She opened her mind only to drop her feelings around him like bombs, hoping to destroy him and let him know it was nothing more than what he deserved. She was launching grenades in the form of her sorrow. She didn’t say any of <em> that </em> to Missandei. she wouldn’t understand. She wanted her to be the bigger person that she couldn't be right now. She wanted to be <em> petty </em> and <em> mean </em> for a while, she wanted to serve him <em> fire and blood.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Missandei let the silence extend between them for a while, knowing she was lost in her mind, in the part of it that was always occupied by <em> him </em>. She knew her too much. Every flaw she was trying to hide. When one of Missi’s hands let go of hers to take back the letter on her legs, Dany blew a relieved breath out of her mouth, disturbing the strand of hair that was stuck at the corner of her lips. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So … you’re not going?” she asked again, wanting to be sure, wanting her <em> friend </em> to be sure of this decision, of this monumental setback in her life. Her finger traced the golden writing on the torn envelope. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why would I?” She said with a clipped voice. She probably sounded exasperated, but she didn't understand why she had to explain it. Missandei knew. She knew everything. She got halfway up from the stairs, trying to escape to her room, but Missi’s hands clasped harder on her own and stopped her from moving any further. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe he…” She started before stopping, trying to find him an excuse, a reason. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He <em> fucked someone else </em>, Missi,” Dany answered harshly, sitting back on the bracketed floor. There was nothing more to say to that. What reasons could he have for it? What excuses? It wasn’t a minor thing, it wasn't something she could just brush under the rug to forget. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a <em> betrayal </em> even if they hadn’t met each other yet. They <em> knew each </em> other. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even for an optimistic romantic like Missandei, it shouldn’t be something unimportant. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was monumental. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t even bother to protect her from it. He just...let her see<em> the girl </em> … the <em> red hair </em> , the <em> freckles </em> and the <em> crooked teeth </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Missandei nodded, letting it go for now. Dany knew it wasn’t the end of this conversation. she wasn’t done scratching at the wound to find out more. “What will you do?” Missandei finally asked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t. Every time she was trying to think about the future, to think further than the next minute it was just a blank space. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t know what to do. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>__</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Missandei had sneakily left the <em> stupid </em>letter on her bed, almost as if it was an afterthought. She knew her too much to believe she didn’t do it on purpose. She probably left the letter on her pillow to remind her of what she was letting go, that it was everything she was waiting for,that soulmates were nothing to be messed with. Soulmarks were important.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> It is known.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was Missandei's favourite story.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daenerys looked at the letter from the corner of her eye, suspiciously. It seemed as if the piece of paper could arm her and the ink could escape and manage to drown her in the words. She could recite them by heart by now. Every word of it was burned with an iron seal in her memory. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Dear Ms. Targaryen,  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Congratulations! It is our pleasure to inform you of your admission to study toward your Master Degree in International Laws and Humans Right at Queensgate University. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She could taste bile in her mouth just thinking about the letter and the North now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shouldn’t let a <em> guy </em>determine the path of her life. She was doing exactly what she had always despised; she was becoming the girl changing her entire life for a boy that probably didn’t deserve it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She had planned every step of her life toward<em> him </em> forever. Since she could feel his presence in the back of her mind. Since she could tug on the bond and get a response. He had always been a source of motivation and it had never bothered her until it turned out to be a disaster of major proportions.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Apparently, she had been the girl changing her life for a boy all along.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> What a confusing mess.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She signed as she dropped on the bed, making her head hurt so much more with the bouncing on the mattress. She chose to ignore the lingering smell of salt around her… the smell of tears and sweat. She didn't want to acknowledge the fact that she should <em> really </em>wash her sheets. She couldn’t find the energy to do anything, let alone strip her bed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a trembling hand, she took the letter beside her head carefully, as if any sudden movements could trigger it to <em> self-combust </em> and set her life on fire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It could burn as much as it wanted. she had never been afraid of fire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Except for hair so red, it seems to be kissed by it.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The paper felt heavy between her fingers, so much more than a simple piece of paper, like it was filled to the brim with hopes and dreams. When she opened it again, she could still imagine the smell of an old library, of snow and dust. She could close her eyes and still recite the words print on it.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Dear Ms. Targaryen….. Congratulations!  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She couldn’t look at this letter anymore. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She needed to get rid of it, to bury it where it could never find its way back to her, creeping on her every thought. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her fingers tightened around the paper, crumpling it, the sound of it almost deafening in the silence of her room, in the calm before the storm she felt brewing. Her eyes filled with tears and she wished she could contain them or stop making them altogether. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They were travelling down the side of her face, seeping against her pillow like so many others before them.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt her throat closing, barely letting air come in or out. This broken dream was like an invisible hand around her neck, strangling her, forcing her to pull on her shirt and try to breathe, try to survive. Her fingers were digging inside the skin of her neck trying to catch the collar of her shirt and ripping it away. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It felt like her heart was pounding in every part of her body, from her toes to her head, destroying it with every beat. She only heard the pounding and <em> his </em>buzzing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sat up quickly, black dots dancing in front of her eyes, drawing a perfect pattern, a perfect guide down her own mind. Her breath quickened once again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was<em> panicking. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her stomach churned and the nausea gripped her in a death grip, twisting her organs upside down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was losing the battle against herself, against <em> him </em> and the constant humming in the back of her mind. She couldn’t block him out <em> and </em> breathe again. She couldn’t maintain both of those actions without failing miserably at one of them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She needed to breathe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> So she let go.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She let go of everything in a sob that teared everything inside her. She didn’t have the energy to maintain the wall around her mind and keep breathing at the same time. Even in this state, a part of her still wants to bring him <em> war, </em>to make him feel the exact same way as her; like they might never get up from this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt everything goes out at the same time; the tears, the sob, the panic, the <em> fear to die </em>. She felt herself expanded to join him, so fast she became as dizzy as when Viserys was pushing the merry-go-round too fast  in Braavos when she was five. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tried to grip herself on her bed and failed miserably.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She had to get away, to run somewhere that wasn’t here, to run somewhere away from the letter, where <em> he </em>wouldn't be. Where could she go that was far enough from the North to shield her from him? She was almost certain that nowhere was far enough for them to really escape from the other. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tried to get up, the letter still clutched in one of her shaky hands. They were clammy, slipping on the edge of her nightstand and forcing her on the ground. Dany barely felt the sting and throbbing of her knees when they met the ceramic floor, but she cried out anyway, choking on a mix of saliva and misery. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Breathe. </em>She needed to breathe. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Panic overflowed her mind, tugging at the bond as she let herself lie on the floor. It wasn’t hers, it wasn’t her anguish that took the vacant space inside her. <em> It was his.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was <em> terrified.   </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then she understood that he felt her; he was absorbing her panic, her conviction that she was dying, drowning on her floor. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her fingers finally found the <em> fiery wolf </em>on her hip bone. She grounded her nails deeply in it, trying to find her footing again inside her own mind. It was throbbing against her fingertips, shaking like an earthquake, bursting with warmth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> He was everywhere.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tried to shield herself with her hand across her eyes while she couldn’t find it in her to stop sobbing even if she were at a loss of air. She felt like her lungs were shrinking to make more space for her heart that was beating its way out of her chest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> She couldn’t do this anymore. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Between the pumps of her heart in her ears, she still hearded the scrunching of the paper she still couldn’t drop. It seemed to be glued to her fingers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t know how long she stayed on the floor, her pain interlacing with his, her nail so deep in her mark she must have drawn blood. It felt like she stayed like that forever, like one of those eternal moments. She was nothing else than a battlefield after a war; destroyed and vacant. Her body ached on the floor, but she didn’t have any force inside her to get up, her <em> fire </em>left. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She just had the energy to finally drop the letter in her hand. It went on the floor without a sound, like a silent scream reverberating inside her chest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then, she let go of the wolf. She let go of <em> him </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Piece by piece, she pushed him outside of her mind. His soft light casted long shadows across her mind, darkness overruned every corner of it once again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Despair.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It choked her out of nowhere, grasping every spark, every glimpse of light, trying to pull on the bond, and stay inside of her. She could feel him desperately trying to hang on to her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> It was worse than him letting her go peacefully.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She picked up the pieces again, fighting to push him out, fighting to close the door and lock it when she heard his voice for the first time in her life. A choking sound in her mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> “Please, please, please don’t go. </em> ” It was a whisper she could barely decipher, so desperate he could have been shooting it and it would have broken her in the exact same way. It was unmistakably <em> him </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With the back of her hand against her lips, she silently sobed, not able to commit a sound to the action anymore. She paused for a split second before shoving him out, snapping the bond like a twig. She sent his way one last picture to remind  him why she had to go, why she couldn’t stay anymore. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Freckles. Red hair. Crooked teeth.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Let's Go Back to the Start (Come Back and Haunt Me)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! </p>
<p>Thank you so much to all of you for the answer to my first chapter! I feel blessed by this fandom! This chapter is part of the "prologue", there will be a time jump for the next chapter. </p>
<p>This chapter can look like that because I have the amazing Hayl to look it over and be the best beta a girl can ask for! Thank you love! </p>
<p>Let me know your thought in the comments or on Tumblr! I have the same username over there. </p>
<p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p><br/>Nobody said it was easy</p>
<p>It’s such a shame for us to part</p>
<p>Nobody said it was easy</p>
<p>And no one ever said it would be this hard</p>
<p>Oh, take me back to the start</p>
<p>[…]</p>
<p>Don’t speak as loud as my heart</p>
<p>And tell me you love me</p>
<p>And, come back and haunt me</p>
<p>Oh, when I rush to the start</p>
<p>Running in circles</p>
<p>Chasing tails</p>
<p>Coming back as we are</p>
<p>
  <b>The Scientist—Emily James</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>Daenerys</b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>May </b>
</p>
<p>  </p>
<p>Weeks later, Missandei and Dany sat in mismatched chairs in the corner of their favourite cafe, sipping on coffee and tea, and spending the little time they had left together. They were becoming real adults. real functioning members of the society. A <em> scary </em> thought all on its own.  The small café could only be described as a <em> hole-in-the-wall </em>kind of establishment. It had almost a clandestine feel to it; without any windows, it was perpetually dark, with bricks on every wall and a high open industrial ceiling with hanging lights. Centuries ago, it was a hiding spot for former slaves trying to keep free of their chains. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>On the other hand, the brown leather chairs, the old wood furniture and the greenery all around the place gave a warm feel to it. It felt like a hot summer night, like Sunspear in the middle of July. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She loved the place, loved the meaning behind it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daenerys let her finger dance around the rim of her oversize cup, touching some of the whipped cream and bringing it to her mouth to taste it. She sighed. It tasted like <em> Heaven </em> .   She brought her other hand to her temple, massaging the pulsing point there, trying to push it back inside her skull. Her head throbbed without pause for <em> weeks </em> now, her brain pushing around like a wolf in a cage, trying to get out, to leave the door open for <em> more. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dany, are you even listening to me?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She looked up at her best friend and she felt her cheeks warming with shame. <em>She wasn’t </em>listening to her<em>. </em>Missi was there, talking to her about all her future projects with Grey and she was incapable of listening, too preoccupied by the pounding pain all around her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> It was so goddamn exhausting. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m … no. I’m not,” she admitted with a sheepish smile on her lips, her hands stilled around her cup. “I’m sorry Missi.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She was such a shitty friend.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The headache invaded every part of her brain, hammered every thought she could form, and tortured every moment of her days. She still shouldn’t hide behind it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Missandei was excited about the next step in her life, about her return to Naath with Grey. She was enjoying every part of it, every box she was stacking in a corner of their living room, every day she got to cross off her calendar. Dany had never seen her friend this happy or this excited in all the years she had known her. It was really <em> saying something </em> because as calm as she was, Missandei was the epitome of happiness, glowing up every room she crosses. She could make any heart grow more than <em> three times </em>in a day. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s okay,” she says with a sweet smile on her lips, she honestly believed it was okay for her best friend to not listen to her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dany shook her head, and her messy, silver braid slided down her back, dancing between her shoulder blades. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s really not,” she said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She brought her cup to her lips, sipping on her coffee. “I’m so happy to see you like this. You deserve to be this happy,” she finally said, her eyes locked in the molten gold that was Missandei’s gaze. She deserved the world … and more. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her friend gave her another blinding smile before she added: “You could always come to Naath if you want.” It wasn’t the first time she offered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For a moment, Daenerys imagined herself tucked between Grey and Missandei, following them everywhere, crashing their every moment, and she laughed softly, shaking her head, still mindful of her pounding brain. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I will pass on that, but thank you,” she answered, her bloodshot eyes diverting to the inside of her cup, almost empty. “I think that… Maybe I’ll go to the North,” she mumbled, not sure if she really said it, not sure if she really wanted Missandei to hear it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>When it comes to the North, she seemed to change her mind like the <em> goddamn </em> wind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the way Missandei straightened in her chair... she heard her <em> just </em>fine. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe I’ll go to the North,” she repeated more clearly to humor her anyway. She peered at Missandei under her lashes, “and I’ll confront him...ask him to stop with the <em> freaking </em> headache,” she added. She wouldn’t go North just to ignore what happened, to move on and just <em> forgive </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She wasn’t sure she could forget anything that happened even if she had to live a hundred years. It was forever inside her mind, an unmovable memory of red hair, freckles and crooked teeth.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But she was ready to try <em> anything </em> to get rid of the spinning of her brain inside her skull, to get rid of the copper taste and constant need to vomit at the back of her throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You should.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Missandei were the kind of person to gloat or tell her it was exactly what she was telling her for weeks now, she would do exactly that. Agreeing with her was her way to say <em> I told you so </em>without words anyway. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You could always punch him in the guts. Or set him on fire,” she noted with a glint of mischief in her eyes, shrugging her shoulders like she didn’t just propose violence and arson.   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dany put her hands in front of her mouth to try and keep the last bit of her coffee inside her mouth. She chuckled, looking at Missandei with disbelief as if she was suddenly growing another head. It was almost the same. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How Naathi of you!” She exclaimed behind her hand. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Naathis were, arguably, the most peaceful people in the world. They were the embodiment of pacifism and mindfulness and Missandei was likely the <em> most </em> peaceful of them all. Missi shrugged again, a smile playing at the corner of her lips. She wasn’t against a little <em> fire </em>once in a while.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I told you you should try and talk to him. I <em> never </em>said he deserved a free pass,” she explained.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Be the Little Dragon your brother says you are and set his ass on fire.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe I will,” Daenerys said, chuckling. Just imagining herself punching him felt kind of liberating. <em> Just a little bit. </em>“Then we could decide what to do from there.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She wasn’t sure what to do, the more time passed, leaving her in pain, the more she had to admit that <em> maybe </em> her solution wasn’t the best one for the situation. Maybe shutting him out <em> forever </em>wasn’t a viable option. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not for him. Not for her. <em> Certainly </em>not for her head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was at a loss of solution. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> She shouldn’t be the only one to try and clean this mess anyway. He shouldn’t have a free pass.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What to do? You’re not thinking of removing it, are you?” Missi pulled on her hand on the top of the table to force her to meet her eyes again, to read her intention in her gaze. <em> She seems to expect her to say yes, </em>to tell her she was going to burn the mark like the Free Folk, and get rid of it permanently,  never having to deal with it ever again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe she <em> had </em>entertained the idea for a split moment. She hated herself for thinking it, for thinking she could use such a drastic method. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her pause must have been  frightening for Missi, she realized. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, of course not,” She said. She could tell Missandei wasn’t totally convinced by her word, “I could <em> never </em> do that Missi.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> He was still too important to her.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Blocking him out was something, but burning the mark and to erase everything about him, without any chance to get it back was something else entirely. Burning the mark would mean she had to accept that she would never meet him, never feel his skin under her fingers or know if his smile is as comforting as his presence on her mind. She could never get rid of her mark, get rid of him. She was still <em> hoping </em>, behind all her anger, that they’ll work it out somehow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> When she’ll be ready to listen.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay,” Missandei simply said, seemingly satisfied with her answer and the truthfulness she seemed to find in her eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They finished their coffee in a comfortable silence, enjoying this moment for what they knew was one of the last times before Missandei leaves for the island. If soulmates were built from friendship alone, Daenerys were <em> certain </em> Missandei would be the one for her. She would choose her blindly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her life was fragmented in pieces, all glued together. There was a distinct <em> before </em> and <em> after </em> Missandei. Some days, she could barely remember the <em> before </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will miss you,” she whispered, looking over her best friend and trying to imagine what her life will look like without her in her daily life. “You know that, right?” She needed to be sure that she understood what she meant, even if she was occasionally the shittiest friend for her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course I know, D.” She looked her over with misty eyes, a sad smile at the corner of her lips. “I will miss you just as much,” she assured, her hand on hers before shifting on her chair, bringing out the leg she had tucked under her. She jerked her curly head toward the door before adding: “Come on now. Let’s get to those last boxes.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my gods, Missandei! I’m not your slave,” she said playfully, getting up from her chair, avoiding the rolled paper towel Missi was throwing at her face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, I know, a dragon is not a slave!” she jabbed back, incapable of keeping her smile at bay before pointing a long finger at her. “You’re going to help me anyway.”  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She hooked her arm with Missandei’s, grinning at her and waving to the owner of the cafe they loved so much. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Outside, the sun was scorching, not even tamed by the sea breeze from the nearby dragon’s bay. The city was breaking every heat record for the season and looked like it was melting under the sun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They walked together slowly, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the brightness, enjoying the bittersweetness of their short stroll from the cafe to their flat, the breeze and the saltiness in the air. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dany abruptly stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk, her fingers gripping into Missandei’s arm, holding on with all the force she could to keep her from falling on the ground. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dany?” It was a question laced with worries. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Excruciating pain </em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The air was knocked out of her lungs by the most agonizing pain she ever felt in her life. She couldn’t breathe. She took a trembling hand to her stomach, only meeting a wet shirt, sticking to her like a second skin. And when she looked at her hand...she could only see red covering it, slowly sliding down her arm. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was blood. <em> So much blood.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was strangely thick and sticky, slipping around her finger and dropping into the pavement. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She could barely hear Missi’s scream in her ear, muffled, like she was underwater, stuck in an aquarium, bleeding in the middle of a sidewalk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Pain.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt another sharp burst of it, slicing inside her like she was nothing more than a stick of butter. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t find enough oxygen to do it. She blinked her eyes slowly, scared, looking around to try and find Missandei’s eyes in this chaos, to anchor herself to her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The night was as black as ink, darker than she could ever remember in the city of Meereen.<em> The cold slipped inside their bones, burning its way inside their chest as they tried to breathe. With their gloved hand, they gripped the burly arm that pushed the second knife inside them, the guard hitting their skin so hard they had to put a foot behind them to keep upright.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was not Missandei. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Pain.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The third knife came exactly at the same time as Missandei finally coming back in front of her, looking as scared as she was. Her lips were moving, but Dany could only shake her head, not understanding a word that was coming from her, not able to hear anything other than her laboured breath. Her blood dripped out of her body and the adrenaline coursing through her veins seemed only to push her blood away, to accelerate the process of her ...<em> bleeding out </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She closed her eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> After the fourth stab, they stopped feeling anything at all. They went to their knees, snow and blood seeping into their pants. They felt nothing but coldness enveloping every part of them like a blanket of ice. They could only hear the horrid sound of more knives piercing their skin, making them lose their balance. They would have fell if it had not been for the hand on their shoulder, driving them into the knife another time.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She gasped for a tiny bit of air, tasting the copper of blood in her mouth, feeling it drip on her chin, choking her. Missandei cried out for help, trying to scoop the blood back in her body, looking at the wounds slowly disappearing under her fingers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dany understood what was happening only a fraction of seconds after Missi did. Her golden eyes were telling her everything she needed to know before she could understand it for herself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> He </em>was dying. They were killing him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She closed her eyes again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> They saw a face with a distinctive hateful scowl. It was the face of a kid. He had eyes as cold as a frozen lake, piercing them as much as the last knife he suddenly twisted in their heart. They fell on their back, looking up at the night sky, seeing snow fall around them.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was the first time she saw snow fall. She wanted to reach him, she didn’t seem to be fast enough to grasp that tiny light slowly slipping out of him. She couldn’t reach him, save him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> He was disappearing.   </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am so sorry,” she whispered at the same time as him, knowing his choking whisper was for her, knowing it will be the second and last time she would ever hear his voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When she saw his last breath forming a tiny cloud in front of their mouth, she heard a wolf howling at the moon, mourning. It was the most heartbreaking sound she had ever heard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> He was gone.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She closed her eyes, her head lolling on the ground, ignoring Missandei’s plea for her to wake up, ignoring her wet hands on her face. The blood slowly reached her hair on the ground.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She welcomed the darkness like an old friend, like salvation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was gone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>__</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a lingering smell of copper and antiseptic around her to go along with the unnerving beeping sound of multiple machines.  She <em> must be </em> in a hospital. The last thing she remembered was falling on the street, bleeding in the sun while he bled alone in the snow. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She could also feel the scratchiness of a hospital gown and the heaviness of an oxygen mask pushing down on her face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t want to open back her eyes, didn’t want to have the confirmation of what she already knew anyway. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was <em> gone </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She didn’t want to be sure. Not now. She wanted to pretend and be blissfully ignorant a little bit longer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Just one more moment. One eternal moment she could pause and stretch again.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She breathed deeply, and opened her eyes just to close them immediately, the harsh light from the neon exploding behind her lids. She slowly opened them again, looking herself over, making inventory of the tubes and needles connected to her body. Looking over the room, she could see Missandei’s bag barely hanging on the back of a chair, like a sad lump of yellow. She searched for her, her eyes landing on a familiar form hunched over her legs, his silver locks in disarray. She choked on a sob. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Viserys.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He lifted his head when he heard her whimpering and smiled sadly at her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, Little Dragon,” he said, his hand finding its way to her forehead, smoothing back what must be a mess of dirty hair. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Things must have been really bad if Viserys was there, if he left Dorne to come back to Essos after he swore to never come back here... not even for her. This country brought him more misery than any human should have to endure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tried to search his eyes, to find the answers to the question she was not willing to ask. She needed the answer, but wasn’t ready to hear it. <em> Not yet </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You scared us. You probably gave me a wrinkle.” He said, leading toward a safe and brotherly banter, trying to downplay the situation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked like he hadn’t slept or changed in a million years. She could see sweat rings under his arms and on his chest, wrinkles all over his shirt. His skin was grey, almost translucide, letting her see the veins around his eyes and the dark circles under them. She rarely saw Viserys disheveled like this. As much as she wasn’t really ready to ask the unspoken question that lingered in the air between them, he didn't seem ready to answer it either.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Apparently, he would always be the one that told her the news no one wants to give. <em> He was the bearer of bad omen </em>. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He will forever be associated with <em> this </em> moment, like <em> every </em> other bad news he had to deliver. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She pushed the oxygen mask down her face, never moving her eyes from his, “Just tell me.” Her voice was rough, coarse by the fact she didn’t use it for gods knows how many days. He hesitated and looked over his shoulder, no doubt hoping for Missandei or a nurse to come in and save him from this, from him having to shatter her world yet again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Dad and Mom are gone, Little Dragon.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Rhaegar killed himself last night, Dany. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>“Vis. please,” she begged him, she needed him to tell her even though the void in her mind should have been enough of an answer. She put her hand on the one still stroking her hair, stopping the movement. He reluctantly caved. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your soulmate died three nights ago, at 11:32 P.M..” It was clinical, detached, <em> cold </em> as only Viserys knew how. It was like a bandaid. They had too much experience with it not to do it as straightforward as possible. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> 11:32 P.M. </em>. He gave her the Northern time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knew she would want to know exactly the time he took his last breath, leaving behind him a cloud of condensed air and a mourning wolf. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Dad and Mom are gone, Little Dragon.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Rhaegar killed himself last night, Dany. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Your soulmate died three nights ago, at 11:32 P.M.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt her chest rise too fast, struggling to keep the air inside her lungs. Viserys repeated her name, trying to push back the mask over her mouth and nose, demanding that she breathe while screaming for help. He was lying to her, telling her that everything would be <em> just fine </em>. She tried to push him away, to lift her hospital gown to see and touch the wolf on her hip. Instead of the smooth inked skin, her finger met the puckered skin of a recent wound.  Her mark was a scar now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sobbed harder, thousands of shards pierced her throat with the force of it. “No, no, no,” she repeated, shaking her head, trying to get up and go, get up and <em> find him </em>. She tugged on the tubes in her arm, wanting them out, needing them to be gone for her to leave again. Her brother held her hands with one of his, taking her jaw in the other. He forced her to look at him,  to stop thrashing around. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me go, Vis.” Her voice was almost unrecognizable, dripping with sorrow and hurt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was <em> truly </em> alone now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He climbed on the bed with her, bringing her to his chest like she was seven again, a small girl not understanding why her mom and dad were never coming back. She fisted his already wrinkled shirt, shaking and screaming, her snotty nose in the crook of his neck. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will never let you go, Little Dragon,” he said, his cheek on her hair, gripping her harder with every scream that seemed to tear her apart in his arms, “It’s you and me against the world. Always.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She held onto him like a shipwrecked person held on to a life jacket. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was them against the world… but they were <em> losing </em>. Constantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The emptiness inside her mind was more than anything she ever felt before. There was no humming, no buzzing, no flickering of <em> him </em> beside her own thoughts. She was <em> alone </em> in there. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> The emptiness was absolute.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> He was gone. He was dead.  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Follow Your Heart (There You'll Find a Home)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello Guys!! </p><p>Please take notes that there is a Time Jump at the beginning of this chapter to accommodate the story I want to tell! </p><p>This chapter is way longer than the previous ones and I am FOREVER grateful for the beautiful Hayl (@Abeyance here, Chloejane on Tumblr) for the beta work! She had to do it twice you guys because of me always adding things! I love you! </p><p>Let me know your thoughts in the comments! they literally make my day!</p><p>You can come chat with me on Tumblr @rayondeneige at anytime!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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</p><p> Follow your heart</p><p>There you'll find a home</p><p>Look past the stars</p><p>You'll never be alone</p><p>The moon and sky</p><p>Pull the tide</p><p>The road less traveled on</p><p>Is where you'll find what you're looking for</p><p>From the tallest tree, I wanna feel your heart beating</p><p>I want you more than a memory</p><p>[…]</p><p> </p><p>Forget the past it's dead and gone</p><p>We'll make it on our own</p><p>
  <b>Find What You’re Looking For—Jax Anderson</b>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Daenerys</b>
</p><p>
  <b>September </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Six years later</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Everything was kind of a mess. </p><p> </p><p>For a moment, Dany could hear Viserys’s voice telling her that she shouldn’t move to the other side of the continent just because she had a <em>feeling </em>or an <em>urge</em> to be there and finish what she never really started years ago<em>. </em>He was worried for her. Worried that every step she was taking was not her own, that every step she put forward was a lure, a trap, <em>the pull</em> acting out again. </p><p>It wasn’t. She just knew.  </p><p> </p><p>She could still hear the judgment dripping from his voice when he tried to talk her out of it, when he tried to keep her home, to keep her safe and keep protecting her from the world… like he always did. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> almost </em> convinced her he was right. </p><p> </p><p>And at this exact moment, with her car so far down a roadside trench that she would never be able to get out of there on her own, she would have agreed with her brother in a heartbeat. She would have stayed in Dorne, pretending it felt like home, like the only thing she needed <em> for </em>a home was her brother and his wife. </p><p> </p><p>Today was one of those days that seemed to exist just to prove her wrong. Make her regret every decision she made in her life that led her to this <em> exact </em> shitty moment. </p><p> </p><p>She sighed, closing her eyes. Her heart was still up in her throat, her shaking hands unable to let go of the steering wheel, closing tightly around the leather, turning the edges of her knuckles white.  </p><p> </p><p>A deer. </p><p> </p><p>A goddamn <em> deer </em>. </p><p> </p><p>She had never seen a real deer in her life until this moment, until it decided to stand in the middle of a northern road. It seemed that as soon as she passed the Neck, the wilderness was making itself known, making sure she was aware that she was in an unknown territory. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What was she doing here?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she shouldn’t have decided she needed to be <em>here</em> just based on the fact that <em>he </em>was from <em>here, </em>that she was supposed to find happiness here, to find her sense of belonging, to find something to fill the void in her mind… to find anything. He lived in the North...and she thought she could find peace in a place she knew he existed. Once. She thought she could find peace in finishing a journey she <em>buried</em> six years ago in a Meereenese street, under a scorching sun. She wanted closure. She wanted to finally put a lid on this part of her and look back at <em>his part </em>in her life with fondness. She wanted to look Viserys in the eyes and swear she didn’t feel <em>the pull </em>anymore, swear that her will to live was stronger than the emptiness, swear that she was better. </p><p> </p><p>She <em> was </em> better. <em> So much better </em>. </p><p> </p><p>She was just...not perfect. </p><p> </p><p>Not yet. </p><p> </p><p>She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes,  letting her head fall back against the headrest of her seat, rolling her stiff shoulders, trying to release the tension. She breathed and pushed her emotions as far as she could. They were fighting with her, trying to claw their way to the surface, trying to force her to live with them, to embrace them as a part of herself. She refused.  </p><p> </p><p>It was going to be fine. She was <em> a dragon </em>. </p><p> </p><p>A dragon with an extinguished fire could  <em> still </em> be a dragon <em> .  </em></p><p> </p><p>She inhaled deeply, counting in her mind, keeping the air bottled up with the tears that were menacing to overcome her self-resolve. She <em> would not </em> cry. She was <em> done </em> crying.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What was she doing here?   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It became clearer with every passing minute she spent in her crashed car that it was possibly a mistake to think this would be a good idea, to think she would feel welcome here just because of <em>him</em>. What could the North offer to her now that he was gone? </p><p> </p><p><em> A deer in the middle of a road, apparently </em>. </p><p> </p><p>She felt like the North was pushing her away, and trying to bury her in a roadside trench like it buried <em> him </em> in a pile of snow stained and melting with his blood.   </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What was she doing here?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her shaky hand made her way under the waistband of her jeans to lightly touch her scarred mark, a puckered amount of skin forming a wolf that was no longer inky black--the only reminiscence of her soulmark, of the connection they had. It was no longer providing comfort, no longer heating up until warmth bubbled up inside her chest enveloping her in a sense of belonging she could never find after him. She shouldn’t reach for it. She knew she should stop. It was the lingering habit she didn’t find the courage or desire to break … even after <em> years </em>of therapy. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Why do you keep touching your mark? He's gone Daenerys. He will not answer you because he’s not on the other side of your bond anymore. What makes you try it every day anyway?” </em> Tyrion kept asking her, wanting her to answer. </p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know exactly why. </p><p> </p><p>She knew that someday, touching her mark with the tip of her finger was the only thing keeping her sane, the only thing keeping her from falling on the other side, from letting everything go.  </p><p> </p><p>She <em> also </em>knew he was dead, but sometimes she just wanted to ignore it, to pretend that maybe he wasn’t. </p><p> </p><p>She could still touch her <em> fiery wolf </em>repeatedly and it would not make him come back, flickering on her mind, or answer her pleas.  </p><p> </p><p>It was still able to calm something primal inside of her. </p><p> </p><p>She let the tip of her finger trace the contour of the mark, knowing every curve of it like the back of her hand. Even without the connection, without him on the other side, she felt her heart settle and stop acting like a trapped animal in her ribcage. She still needed to touch it, to feel the dead skin as a reminder of what could never be, of what she could never have.  </p><p> </p><p>He was gone. She <em> mostly </em> made peace with it. </p><p> </p><p>They were robbed of a lifetime together. And she was the one that robbed them of the last weeks of his existence. </p><p> </p><p><em> What was she doing here? </em> </p><p> </p><p> Daenerys heard a bang on the window right next to her head. Her hands flung to her mouth as she screamed in reaction, her heart jumping out of her ribs.</p><p> </p><p>She looked over and her gaze met a pair of dark eyes nestle under thick eyebrows, watching her expectedly. She stopped moving, hoping that she could disappear with her lack of movement, hoping the person on the other side of her window would just let her be miserable for a moment longer. </p><p> </p><p>When she left Sunspear two days ago, she was buzzing with excitement at the idea of living in the North, at the idea of her tiny house, at the idea of finally making a decision for herself, for <em> them. </em>She got on Viserys’s every nerve. </p><p> </p><p>She just needed a moment to take back control over herself, to go back to the <em> excitement </em>of it all, to go back to the sheer joy the north was giving her.  </p><p> </p><p>The woman on the other side of her car arched one of her eyebrows before knocking on the window again... slowly … like Daenerys might be a little daft. With a sigh, Dany rolled down her window, instantly regretting it as cold wind seeped into the car to assault her.</p><p> </p><p><em> How was it so freaking cold in the middle of September? </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Are you all right?” The question lingered between them before she could answer it with words. The girl in front of her managed to sound worried and annoyed in the same breath. <em> It must be a skill hard to master </em>, Dany thought for herself. </p><p> </p><p>Her emotions managed to pass her barrier, to claw their way up, to make the flow of tears flooded her eyes again. She couldn’t find the strength to stop them, to push them back again. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhm,” she tried to make it sound like she was alright, like she didn’t have her throat almost completely closed off to prevent a sob from escaping her again, like she wasn’t fighting a battle she already lost with herself.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine,” She finished with a small voice. </p><p> </p><p>“No offence,” the girl started with a tone that could only indicate she was about to say something offensive. “But you look like a hot mess, like you’re having the worst day of your life,” the young woman said, unconvinced. </p><p> </p><p><em> She was not even close. </em> </p><p> </p><p>The worst day of her life would forever be burned inside her mind, an ache that would never go away. Not a day could pretend to be worse than the day she felt him <em>die</em>. Even without any scars left, she could still point exactly where the blades entered their bodies that day, where the blades cut into <em>them </em>like butter - where the blades sliced into <em>their </em>soul. All <em>seven</em> <em>times</em>.  </p><p> </p><p>Today was not even close to the misery of that moment. Today was <em> just </em> a bad day, a <em> small </em> inconvenience. </p><p> </p><p>She was just <em> exhausted, </em>and probably in a little bit of shock.  </p><p> </p><p>Dany opened her mouth to tell her, to just explain that she was going to be alright, that this day would just pass like any other one life threw her way. It was just too much. Her words morphed into an uncontrollable whimper, a shattering sob splitting her throat in half. She couldn’t keep it inside anymore, keep pretending the day didn’t just shift for the worse, keep pretending she knew what she was doing.  </p><p><em> She knew nothing. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Wait - oh my god! Are you hurt?” the girl asked her, opening her car door to look her over, to gently pat her, checking for a wound that doesn’t exist. Dany understood the concern, she <em>did </em>just actually crash her car down into a trench to avoid a giant freaking deer. </p><p> </p><p>...It was probably an average size deer<em> .  </em></p><p> </p><p>“No,” she vehemently shook her head to punctuate the fact that she was not hurt… not physically anyway. “I… I’m sorry,” Dany continued, her hand going straight to her trembling lips, struggling to control her shaking voice, like an earthquake was taking place in her body, taking over every part of herself she couldn’t control anymore. She closed her eyes, willing her inside to just bottle everything up again and keep going. She was an expert at it, a professional at shoving everything down, at hiding any feeling that could bubble up and choke her. She was an expert at avoiding the worried look in her brother’s eyes, at trying to never see it looking down at her ever again.  </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no … is it <em> emotions </em>?” The girl asked horrified, her hands no longer trying to find a wound on her, to find something wrong. “I’m not good with ’em,” she deadpanned, like nothing could be more awful to deal with than a strange woman with uncontrollable emotions on the side of the road. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe there was <em> actually </em> nothing worse for her than dealing with Daenerys crying in a crashed car. </p><p> </p><p>She looked at the girl behind a curtain of tears, able to see the horrified look on her face at the thought she would have to deal with her, to provide emotional support. Daenerys let go of a small wet laugh and there was a deep laugh behind the girl mingling with Dany’s sudden snort, breaking one of her sobs in two. “Me neither,” she said, her voice lighter, an <em> almost </em> smile at the corner of her lips. “It’s just been a <em> long </em>ass day.”</p><p> </p><p>She wasn’t lying. She had a whole lot of emotions but she was <em> shit </em> with dealing with them. All they do is invade her body, make it their home, splattered themselves everywhere around her until she exploded. She was only good at staring at them dead on, pushing them to go back inside the small corner of her body she allowed them to live in… and hopefully die in. Calming her breathing, Dany got rid of the tears still escaping her eyes with a flick of her fingers. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi. I’m Daenerys.” </p><p> </p><p>She reluctantly let go of her scared mark, of the mute comfort and anchoring she could pretend to get out of it, to give her hand to the girl crouched by the open door. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> That </em> explains it,” the girl answered with a sparkle in her eyes that Daenerys couldn’t really decipher. “Your name. You’re not from here,” she tried to specify, noting the puzzled look in Dany’s face. Her name was <em> apparently </em> a dead giveaway that she was not from anywhere near the North, that she was someone more likely to crash her car on the side of the road. </p><p> </p><p><em> She wanted to be someone from here. </em> </p><p> </p><p>She wanted to make this place her new home, she wanted to become more than the friend or the sister, more than the girl with the <em> dead soulmate </em> . She wanted to become more than the girl <em> he </em>decided to leave behind even before he died, more than the girl holding onto his last words, his last sorry, to pretend he never intended to hurt her in the first place, never intended to leave her alone in the darkness.   </p><p> </p><p>“Her name’s Arya,” someone said, bringing her out of her mind, “but she’s too much of an asshole to notice she didn’t tell you,” remarked the masculine voice behind them. The voice, she remarked, was the same one that was attached to the deeper laugh earlier.  </p><p> </p><p>Dany smiled at the man over the girl's head who punched him tightly on the leg at the same time. “I was getting there,” she said, looking Daenerys over with precision, like she was making inventory of her body, making sure she still got all her parts. She fired quick questions at her, like a machine gun barely waiting for answers. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think so. It wasn’t a big impact.” </p><p> </p><p>“Can you move your legs?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p> </p><p>“Can you move your fingers?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to be overly dramatic,” Arya started, an amused glint on her eyes,  “but… I think you’ll live,” she finally concluded, nodding sharply, a shadow of a smile on her lips. Daenerys looked at her and laughed. She’ll live indeed.  </p><p> </p><p>Arya got up again. “Come on now, we’ll drive you. You’re not getting this car out of here anytime soon, I’m afraid.” </p><p> </p><p>Dany kept her eyes on her for a moment...on the big dark eyes patiently waiting for an answer that was too long to come <em> again, </em> like her brain needed time to adjust, to really understand everything that was happening around her. Maybe those deep eyes were the welcoming she was waiting for, the sign that the North wasn’t rejecting her and everything she represented. Maybe she should be positive and stop judging the North,  stop thinking it was out to make her life <em> miserable </em>, and feel like she could never belong anywhere anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Vis would be appalled by her putting her trust in strangers, but she was in a strange place, surrounded by nothing but strangers. For all she knew, Arya seemed to be the only safe heaven around anyway. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She must start somewhere.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> “Thank you,” she said with a small voice while getting out of her car, smoothing her coat back in place around herself. </p><p> </p><p>The man standing by Arya had a rugged look to him; He had big blue eyes in a tan face with oil or soot stain on his skin, and cropped deep brown hair. Dany decided that his carefree smile must be his best feature and the best way to describe him. </p><p> </p><p>“Gendry,” he simply said, wiping his hand on his jeans before extending it to her, not getting rid of any of the stains on them anyway.  </p><p> </p><p>She took it, smiling back, “Daenerys. You can call me Dany.” </p><p> </p><p>Gendry pointed her car with his thumb, jerking his head in its direction, “You must have a bag or two. Open the trunk I’ll take them for ya.” </p><p> </p><p>She fumbled with her keys to unlock the trunk of her brand new car, before turning toward Arya with a wavering smile on her lips. It was still a smile. Arya already had her work bag slung over her shoulder, her water bottle in hand. </p><p> </p><p>“So, what happened?” she asked, a hand hovering over Daenerys’s back, carefully guiding her around the bigger rocks on their path out of the trench.  Even with Arya’s help, Daenerys could feel the cold, slushy water seeping into her small boots. They were not made for hiking out of a trench, apparently. </p><p> </p><p>“A deer happened,” Dany answered, annoyance tinting every word, “a <em>giant </em>deer<em>.” </em>She opened her arms as much as possible to show them how large it was, avoiding the patches of water on her path the best she could, her toes already folding on themselves with the coldness of it.  </p><p> </p><p>Arya looked back at Gendry, pointed an accusing finger at him, her other hand closed around Dany’s elbow to help her finish the hike out without more incident. “See! It’s your <em> boujee </em> ass family again!” she shrieked.  </p><p> </p><p>He loudly closed the trunk of the car, rolling his eyes at her. “Yes. We own every <em> fucking </em> deer in the world,” he said, full of sarcasm and fond exasperation. He expertly jumped around the rocks and the patch of water, catching up with them with no efforts and no fuss, like he was born avoiding accidents and misfortunes. Daenerys was amazed, and jealous, pretty sure her feet wished to be that good at avoiding water now. </p><p> </p><p>“His family has a <em> family crest </em> ,” Arya explained, snickering at him, gently pushing her elbow into his side, “Can you believe it? It has a stag on it … because they are <em> so important.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em> Your </em> family has a crest too, Arya,” he pointed out with an annoyed tone in his voice, like it was the hundredth time he had to defend his family’s crest, like it was the hundredth time he had to remind her that her own family has one. </p><p> </p><p>It probably was the hundredth time. </p><p> </p><p>“We don’t use it! Yours is <em> all over </em>the Stormlands.” </p><p> </p><p>“My family has a crest,” Dany admitted, stopping the next argument out of Gendry’s mouth. Regrets filled her chest and her face the second they both stopped bickering to look at her, to search in her face if she was serious or not.  “With dragons,” she added unnecessarily, pushing her shoulder to her ears. </p><p> </p><p>Arya and Gendry looked back at each other before Arya let go of a big belly laugh, full of mischief and amusement. She shrugged her shoulder, smiling at her. </p><p> </p><p>“Dragons are better than a <em> fucking </em>useless stag.” Arya said, ending the argument with Gendry. She apparently deemed herself the winner of it. </p><p> </p><p>The gravels on the roadside were crunching under their shoes while they were walking toward Gendry’s pickup truck parked there, the emergency lights on, blinking and flickering, easily visible even in this bright sunlight. Daenerys has no idea what kind of vehicule it was, but it was <em> massive. </em> It looked just perfectly in the <em> right place </em> between the infinite forest and the road that seemed to extend for miles. </p><p> </p><p>Everything seemed to be gigantic in the North … <em> larger-than-life </em>, like all this empty space around them actually needed to be filled by something, anything. </p><p> </p><p>Gendry opened the tailgate to put her bags among countless of tools randomly and carelessly thrown in the trunk. “So, Daenerys, where are we dropping you off?” he asked her, gallantly opening the car door for Arya. The girl rolled her eyes at him, but still used his shoulder to help herself climb into the truck. If she were a betting woman, Daenerys would bet on the fact that she <em> loved </em>the gesture even with the eye roll, that she actually appreciated it even though they all knew she would find a way inside the truck without his help.  </p><p> </p><p>Daenerys almost had to give herself a running start to get in the <em> monster truck </em> herself.    </p><p> </p><p>“Winterfell?” She told them with furrowed brows. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question but it kind of did anyway. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> For God’s sake, she knew where she was going. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It’s an estate near Win—” </p><p> </p><p>“Near Wintertown,” Arya interrupted her, turning on herself to look at her, to pin her down with her dark gaze full of wonder. Dany gave her a bigger smile at the excitement she could see in her face. “It’s my family estate,” Arya said, tucking a leg under her, not caring about the mud her small boots slathered on the seat, not caring at the little glare Gendry sent her way “It’s multiple houses on a huge lot of land.” </p><p> </p><p>“You must know Mr. Snow then!” Dany exclaimed excitedly, moving to the centre of the backseat to see both of them better, to see the road curving in front of them, lined with colourful trees. She was renting him a little cozy guest house on Winterfell’s ground with trees and a swing. The swing was absolutely <em> lovely </em>, like the focal point of a possible fairytale, like it will bring her happiness by itself.   </p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Snow?” Arya asked incredulously, hitting Gendry’s arm. “Ho gods… I can’t,” she guffawed, incapable of keeping her laugh from bouncing around the truck cabin, “please, please for the love of all the gods… Don’t call my brother Mr. Snow in front of me ever again. He would die!” </p><p> </p><p>Gendry’s laugh joined Arya’s while she was fanning herself with her hands, trying to find her composure. “He would hate that,” he assured, looking at Daenerys in the rearview mirror. </p><p> </p><p>Their eyes were so full of mischief that Dany knew here and there that calling her landlord Mr. Snow would be a hilarious mistake. <em> She might do it anyway for the kick of it, </em>to see if he would have the same reactions as them, the same mirth as them. </p><p> </p><p>She smiled at their amusement, watching their interaction with fascination. It was always <em> impolite </em> to openly ask, but there was absolutely no doubt in her mind that they were <em> soulmates. </em>They carry themselves exactly like Viserys and Arianne; confident that the other one was still beside them. They were silently angling themselves toward the other, exchanging glances here and there and having those silent conversations that seemed too intimate for her to witness, too intimate for her to understand. She never had that kind of silent understanding, she never had the fullness of a seal bond, she never had the chance to experience it. What she had was beautiful on its own, but it will forever stay incomplete, like a painting that dried out before the artist could correct the colouring, like a song that could never really find its last verse. </p><p> </p><p><em> Arya and Gendry loved each other. </em>It was more than just belonging. </p><p> </p><p>Dany’s eyes wandered outside the window; the view deferling in front of them was breathtaking. The road was all curves and hills turning around each other, and the colourful trees seemed tall enough for their tips to touch the sky, to join the top of the mountains peeking at the horizon, their peaks covered in snow. Excitement bubbled in her belly again and something else inside of her settled in, laid down and curled on itself. She wasn’t sure what it was but it felt <em> comfortable.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“What made you move up here?” Gendry asked with an accent that didn’t sound Nordic to her ears. He sounded like he was from King’s Landing. like he wasn’t from here either, like he just decided it was the place to be… <em> like her </em>. </p><p> </p><p>She looked back and locked eyes with him in the mirror. She smiled fondly, turning her eyes back on the road and the trees. “I saw it in a dream,” she said softly, deciding to give this abridged version of the truth, this <em> acceptable </em>version of it. </p><p> </p><p>It was a dream of cold, surrounded by snow, pine trees, and winter roses. </p><p> </p><p>It was a dream of belonging and finding home. </p><p> </p><p>It was a dream of a white house with a swing in the middle of a forest, slowly replacing the dream of the big house with the red door and the lemon trees. </p><p> </p><p>“Was it a good dream?” he asked. Simple. Direct. </p><p> </p><p>Daenerys had the feeling he already knew the answer to that question. They already saw it on her face, in her eyes, in the way they lit when they mentioned Winterfell, in the thumbing of her heart she’s sure they could hear. </p><p> </p><p>“For the most part,” she answered honestly, choosing to ignore the part with the grieving wolves and the bleeding snow.  </p><p> </p><p>He nodded, taking Arya’s hand in his, letting Daenerys go back to her complantation, to her silence. </p><p> </p><p>The rest of the road was spent in silence. The soft rhythm of the country song playing on the radio seemed to follow every bump and curve like it was made for a ride in a curvy road. Daenerys distractedly played with the hem of her shirt, picking at it while she still looked at the trees fastly disappearing out of her window. </p><p> </p><p>As soon as she felt the truck slow down and turn on a hidden driveway, she looked in front of them, amazed by the picture the trees were revealing in front of her. She barely registered the main cottage with its big windows, two chimneys and old stone walls covered in vines, ivy and ferns. She only had eyes for the tiny white house nestling in the middle of a bunch of pine trees near an imposing oak full of orange leaves. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was perfect. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She got out of the moving truck before Gendry could totally stop; she didn’t have any more time to waste. The wind danced around her, lifting her clothes and pushing some leaves and pines around her ankles, around her still wet boots. The strands of silver hairs that escaped her messy bun were wiping her face and fleeing in every direction, like they were searching for a way to be free.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She had no care for this.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She only cared for the house, for the magnificent hobbit’s hut in front of her. </p><p> </p><p>The house was so white, it felt like it could light up at night, like a lighthouse, guiding her way back to a place she could <em> maybe </em> call home. Everything was exactly like the pictures and even <em> more </em> perfect. Viserys had told her it was more a walk-in closet than a house and she had replied it was more of a <em> soon-to-be </em> home than a house. </p><p> </p><p>She was <em> right </em>. </p><p> </p><p>She lifted her fingertips to her trembling lips, her eyes danced around, trying to catch sight of everything in front of her without missing a beat; from the glass sliding doors, to the front porch with thick beams and the perfect swing bench on it, the perfect promise of happiness.   </p><p> </p><p>“So…” Arya trailed beside her. </p><p> </p><p>She had completely forgotten they were even there, too focused by the house, submerged by the idea of it.  </p><p> </p><p>“Arya, I’m warning you… I’m about to have emotions,” she said, looking at her the best she could with her eyes swimming in tears, revealing in her emotion for once, enjoying it. She slowly walked to the house, weirdly certain that she was walking towards something bigger than just a house, something that felt like a big deal... like the future. With her hand on the handrail, she climbed the three steps leading her to the sliding glass door. <em> Her </em>front door. </p><p> </p><p>She looked back at Arya, a radiant smile on her face. “It’s perfect,” she said, not able to find any other word to describe how she was feeling, how the house was the culmination of all of her dreams, “exactly how I imagined it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Minuscule?” Arya asked, smiling back at her, her shoulder leaning against one of the porch’s beams. The house doesn’t look that much minuscule with Arya besides it. </p><p> </p><p>Dany shook her head, laughing. It was one of the tiniest houses she ever saw, but it wasn’t what she meant. With her hands on either side of her eyes, she looked inside, peeking behind the glass, seeing what looked like the living room already covered with the boxes she sent days ago, waiting for her to unpack, to make a home. </p><p> </p><p>“When I saw this house…” She started, searching for the right word without looking like a lunatic, “I just knew I was <em> supposed </em> to live here,” <em> it was written in the stars. </em> She turned back toward Arya, seeing no judgment in her eyes, just a spark of what seemed to be curiosity … <em> hope </em> and <em> longing </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“How?” Arya simply asked. She didn’t have any ounce of judgment in her voice, any doubt about her sanity. She didn’t hint at the fact she sounded mad. <em> bat-shit crazy. </em> </p><p> </p><p>It was refreshing. </p><p> </p><p>She shrugged her shoulders, having no words to describe the feeling, no words to describe the way she knew. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. “I don’t know. It was just calling my name,” she simply admitted, not knowing how else to explain the pull she had toward the small house or the nights she couldn’t sleep just thinking about that front porch swing.  </p><p> </p><p>Arya looked at Gendry, a glint of hope in her eyes that Daenerys couldn’t really figure out. She smiled back at Arya when she told her she’ll be right back with the key, taking a jog in the direction of the main house, the classic nordic cottage. She was sure they could hear the floor cracked during the night, the wind fighting with the green shutters in that house, like it was too old, but yet too young to be forgotten. it was almost as beautiful as <em> her </em>white house. </p><p> </p><p>Dany looked back at <em> her </em>house, stopping her wandering sight on the swing, incapable of resisting, incapable of staying away one more minute. She closed her eyes as soon as she sat on the wooden bench, enjoying the cracking sound it made under her shifting weight until she settled down, until she finally found her place. Around them, it smelled like pine trees, wet mud and smoke from a bonfire; the air was crispier than anything she ever breathed before. </p><p> </p><p>“Please tell me you didn’t choose this house for the swing,” Gendry said from the stairs of the porch and she smiled, only opening one of her eyes to look over him, pushing herself with her feet.</p><p> </p><p><em> It was definitely a factor. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“You can’t prove anything,” she answered, making him laugh.   </p><p> </p><p>He was about to ask something, when they heard Arya screaming in the background, calling a name she didn’t quite understand. Daenerys just had time to find her footing again before she saw the biggest dog she had ever seen climb the small stairs faster than she could blink, a giant blur of white fur.  </p><p> </p><p><em> Everything </em> was bigger in the North. </p><p> </p><p>It couldn’t be a dog. <em> It could only be a wolf … and it probably wanted to eat her for dinner.   </em></p><p> </p><p>Daenerys gripped the chains of the swing, feeling the coldness of it against her palm. She backed off until she could hear the swing hitting the house behind her, trapping her there, between a wolf and a hard place. The wolf was so big, its head was almost coming up to her waist; he had fur as white as the snow and ruby eyes, looking up at her. In her terrified stance, she had a hard time seeing his wagging tail or his lolling tongue. </p><p> </p><p>Her heart was beating out of her chest as she tried not to look at the beast and make herself so small it would not give her any attention, it would not even know she was there. She whimpered when she felt his muzzle pushing against her hip forcefully. </p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t focus on what Arya was saying while she was grabbing at the wolf’s collar, trying to make him back off Daenerys, trying to make him behave. The wolf whined and it brought her out of her fear laden trance, out of the bubble of terrified imagination pushing her to imagine herself as a wolf’s snack. She looked down at it, at the fury head currently pushing against her stomach and her hips with insistence. </p><p> </p><p>“Ghost! for fuck’s sake,” Arya grumbled, pulling on the collar before looking at Daenerys again, “he won’t hurt you. He’s usually a big fluffy baby.” </p><p> </p><p>Dany just nodded, incapable of saying anything for the moment, too busy processing the information Arya just gave her, convincing herself it wasn’t going to eat her in one bite. She lifted a trembling hand, slowly dropping it on top of the animal’s massive head, patting him gently. He shrugged it off to lick it before he nuzzled her hip again, making her take a step back to keep from falling on her ass in front of everyone. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you have in there?” Arya asked incredulously, pointing at her pants, at the hip Ghost kept pushing against, “bacon?” </p><p> </p><p>Arya managed to make the wolf sit, his tail wagging faster than the wind against the porch floor, stirring up a cloud of dirt and dust around them. He was still sniffing at her midsection with excitement, like he just knew something they didn’t. </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing,” Dany assured her with a wavering laugh, her heart still stuck in the middle of her throat, “it’s just my mark.” It was the only thing she had under her pants, a scared soul mark, whiter than her skin. </p><p> </p><p>Arya looked at her with the same glimmer of hope she could see earlier and couldn’t understand when they were in the truck. </p><p> </p><p>“Your <em> soul mark </em>?” she asked, sounding eager to know more, like she kept herself from asking any question before that moment of opening that Ghost provided for her, like she kept herself from asking about it.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” she said, looking at Ghost, “well, it’s just a scar now.” She started scratching behind Ghost’s ears to keep her attention on the white wolf and not on Arya, to keep the inevitable uneasiness a scared mark always bring, the dead coldness grabbing her heart every damn time she had to think about it, every damn time she had to just let people know she was destined to live this lifetime alone. They always looked at her like she was a ticking bomb, like she was minutes away from the darkness, minutes away from <em> the pull </em> calling her back to him.</p><p> </p><p>She didn’t want to witness the moment realization hit Arya and she would understand all of it… understand that her soulmate was dead. </p><p> </p><p><em> “It’s not a secret Daenerys. You have a scared mark; own it, wear it like armour, like the mark of a survivor,” </em>her therapist kept saying. </p><p> </p><p>Owning the truth would protect her in the end… but hurt everything on its path for the road leading there. </p><p> </p><p>The scar wasn’t supposed to be a secret, it was only the proof that she once belonged to someone, the proof he existed and she didn’t dream him up. He was hers and she was his for a small amount of time, in every way it was possible without a <em> seal </em>bond. </p><p> </p><p>He was hers.  </p><p> </p><p>He was real and she had a <em> beautiful scar </em> to prove it. </p><p> </p><p>She slowly got on her knees in front of Ghost, her fingers lost in the thickest fur she had ever touched, in the enticing way he helped her mind run from her own thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” she whispered to him, her forehead against his furry one, her heart still hammering in her ribcage, menacing to get out of there. </p><p> </p><p>His red eyes were locked on hers and he stopped every movement other than his tail beating the porch. She smiled, not knowing what else to do while ignoring Arya’s apologies. </p><p> </p><p>Ghost lapped at her cheek, covering half of her face with slobber. She laughed, trying to push him away to prevent him from licking the other side of her face. </p><p> </p><p>She failed<em> . </em> </p><p> </p><p>When she looked back at Arya, she could see the girl still struggling to find the words, to find a way to apologize, to find a way to kill that curiosity that pushed her to ask the question. It was the usual discomfort anyone has when she mentions the scar or the <em> dead soulmate. </em>Dany just waved her hand and shook her head; there was no need for her to apologize, no need to acknowledge the moment, no need to let it expand between them. </p><p> </p><p>Arya nodded and opened the door for the house, sliding it further to let Daenerys go in first. She got up fast to finally enter her house, breathing in the woodsy scent mix with air freshener. The place was scattered with boxes and pieces of furniture she would have to put together, with parcels of her life she shipped here... but it was perfect anyway. </p><p> </p><p>It was a cozy house with a small loft opening over the living room. Everything in there felt like a dream to her, almost like a memory that wasn’t her own, one she couldn’t place, one she cherished anyway. </p><p> </p><p>She felt Ghost graze her legs before he went directly to the unlit fireplace, letting himself fall in front of it. She smiled, she wasn’t the only one that felt at home here somehow. </p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Arya asked incredulously at the wolf laid on the floor, looking like he had no intentions of moving up from there anytime soon. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mind,” Dany assured with a laugh and a shrugged movement of her hand, “he can stay with me now that I know he won’t eat me.” The wolf’s ears were moving, as if he knew they were speaking about him. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Arya said, still annoyed with the beast, “I’ll let <em> Mr. Snow </em> knows where he can find him when he comes back home.” </p><p> </p><p>Dany was about to answer and comment on the use of the unfortunate nickname when Gendry came into the house with all of her bags. </p><p> </p><p>Dammit… She forgot about those. </p><p> </p><p>She smiled at him sheepishly, apologizing for forgetting them, apologizing for letting him carry all of it by himself again. </p><p> </p><p>“No need,” he assured her, leaving the bags by the door, “I <em> had </em> to get away when Arya put her foot in her mouth earlier with your mark. It was too much for me to handle.” </p><p> </p><p>“Gods! Why are you bringing it up again?” Arya shrieked toward him, pushing him against the wall, making him laugh harder. He grabbed her by the shoulder to gently push her out of the house while she was profusely protesting. </p><p> </p><p>Arya waved at her from the porch, right besides the swing. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Dany said. It wasn’t nearly enough to say how grateful she was for their help. She would still be in a roadside trench, cursing a deer if it weren’t for them. </p><p> </p><p>“No problem,” Arya assured and Dany believed her. She was about to slide the door close when Arya called her name again. “Welcome home,” she added softly. </p><p> </p><p>Daenerys' throat constricted at the idea that it could be her home. The white house in the forest could be the thing she was longing for forever now; a place she could call her own, a place where she could feel safe, a place where she could stop feeling alone. Where she could just… live. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” she answered with a hoarse voice, almost silent. </p><p> </p><p>Arya seemed to hear her anyway. </p><p> </p><p>She slided the door shut, hearing Arya tell Gendry <em> “I was so sure it was her,” </em> before she closed it completely, not knowing what she was referencing, too emotional to think about anything other than the fact she was North. </p><p> </p><p>She was almost home.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Finally.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>___</p><p> </p><p>The sun set on the horizon hours ago, basking her living room in deep orange lights before the darkness of the night took over, casting deeper shadows around her. Daenerys sat on the floor, talking to a <em> dog-wolf </em> that wasn’t hers, sorting her cutlery in the drawers in front of her, mentally cursing herself for bringing too much stuff into a <em> tiny </em>house, for trying to fit all her life in this small space. </p><p> </p><p>Every time she thought she was getting ahead of the boxes, they seemed to multiply around her, to pile up in every corner, littering her living room, her entire life within cardboard box and tape. She had started by clearing a path to her new loveseat for Ghost, wanting him to be comfortable, but mostly wanting to avoid having to choose a real starting point. She wasn’t that good with choices or <em> priorities </em> when the number of things to do was too overwhelming, when everything seemed to never end. She tended to tackle a mountain by the top instead of climbing slowly from the bottom.   </p><p> </p><p>She looked over the dog when she heard three knocks on her door. He didn’t bark, he just straightened his head with his ears perked, his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his tail beating the seat. Seeing his reaction, she knew <em> exactly </em> who it was even if she couldn’t see more than a silhouette from her glass door. “It’s your daddy <em> , </em> isn’t it?” she softly asked him, not waiting for an answer but earning a happy whine anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s open!” she screamed to the door at the same time Ghost jumped out of the couch, running to the new comer.  </p><p> </p><p>Behind the mountain of cardboard, she could only hear the sliding of the door, the squishing of wet shoes and the clicking of Ghost’s nails against the hardwood floor. It sounded like he was dancing around, jumping and circling as fast as he could letting out a mix of a bark and a whimper.  </p><p> </p><p>“Hey boy,” a gruff voice said from the open door, rough and deep. “It could have been a murderer knocking on your door, you know,” he continued louder for Daenerys. It was unmistakably a Northern voice, and unmistakably an <em> appealing </em> one <em> . </em>It was more pronounced than Arya’s. Harder. Crispier. </p><p> </p><p>“A <em> murderer </em> would <em> never </em> knock,” she snorted, “it’s far too polite.” She looked at him over a pile of boxes, a smile at the corner of her lips, amusement shining in her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shit.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The man before her was … <em> beautiful. </em> Handsome seemed too rough of a word somehow; it would not give justice to the deep eyes or the luscious curls escaping the bun at the back of his head. <em> However </em>, handsome would describe perfectly the shoulders and the shadows playing with the shape of his bearded jaw.   </p><p> </p><p>He barely smiled at her answer, but it still reached his eyes somehow, like he was used to only smile with them. </p><p> </p><p>“A <em> psychopath </em> then,” he said, leaning on the door frame, a hand in the pocket of his jeans, crossing his ankles. His body moved smoothly, like he was perfectly aware of each and every movement he was doing, like even the most nonchalant motion was carefully thought out. His eyes travelled around the place to land back on Ghost happily circling around him, begging for more attention. “I know boy, I missed you too,” he said with his rough voice, a mix between the smoothness of a glass of whiskey and the harshness of a cigarette. </p><p> </p><p>“They don’t knock either,” she stated, getting up from the floor and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “they prefer to watch from the windows.” </p><p> </p><p>The wrinkles around his eyes deepened as she suppressed a smile herself, biting the inside of her cheek to keep it from showing. </p><p> </p><p>“A <em> robber </em>then,” he continued, trying to make his point come across, acting like there was something to win in this argument. </p><p> </p><p>“A <em> robber </em> would <em> never </em> knock,” Dany said with certainty, snorting, “they would <em> at least </em> wait for me to finish moving so they don’t have to search through all of <em> that </em>.” She unnecessarily pointed at one of her boxes to support her statement, to make him see she was right. </p><p> </p><p>He barked a laugh at that. It was a full laugh; a <em> shoulder-shaking-and-head-thrown-back </em> kind of laugh. It reverberated on every wall of the house. It suited him just <em> fine, </em>but she had a feeling it was foreign to him somehow … a rare occurrence. It sounds too rough, too unpractice to be a habit.</p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?” he asked disbelief, his laugh still ringing in her ears. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m Daenerys,” she answered even if she knew it was a rhetorical question about the absurd conversation they just had and not a real enquiry of her name, “Dany actually.” </p><p> </p><p>She adjusted the sweater on her shoulder, cleaning her hand on her leggings before extending one to him, surprised to feel the warmth of his palm in hers. It was like running your hand in the sand of a Dornish beach;<em> warm and rough. </em>It was like his hand was never touched by the rain and the cold outside, like he was made of pure fire. </p><p> </p><p>“Dany,” he repeated. For as far as she could remember, her name had never sounded so smooth before, she was certain of it. “I’m Jon. Jon Snow,” he added. </p><p> </p><p>Ah<em> . Mr. Snow </em> in the flesh <em> . </em></p><p> </p><p>“Well, <em> Jon Snow </em>, please come inside before we freeze to death in the entryway,” she said, pulling on his hand to drag him out of the door frame. She sprinted around him to close the heavy door and stop the cold air from finding its way inside the house, inside her bones. </p><p> </p><p>Her bare feet were freezing for the second time of the day. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s… <em> September </em>,” he said as she was turning to look at him again, her back against the cold glass door. He said it as if it actually wasn’t cold outside at this particular time of the year, as if it wasn’t supposed to be cold in September, as if she wasn’t freezing her toes off.</p><p> </p><p>But it <em> was </em>cold. </p><p> </p><p>“And?” she asked, sinking against the door, “it’s a <em> freezing </em> September.” Even this close she couldn’t really tell in the dimed light if his eyes were a dark chocolate brown or the deepest of black. </p><p> </p><p>He smiled, not moving, almost traping her against the door while one of his hands was roughing Ghost’s ears, making the dog panting with happiness. </p><p> </p><p>“Right… Where are you from again?” he asked. This time around his smile reached his eyes <em> and </em> his lips… both at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>It was a legitimate question, she thought, between her freezing toes in <em> September </em> , the boxes piling around and the fact she was moving inside his guest house. She had to move from somewhere. she had to actually <em> be </em>from somewhere. She wasn’t from anywhere. </p><p> </p><p><em> Not really. </em> </p><p> </p><p>She adjusted her sweater another time, keeping her hand on her shoulder to prevent it from sliding down <em> again </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“From so many places,” she sighed, “I’m not sure which one would actually qualify.” </p><p> </p><p>She lived in Dragonstone, Braavos, Pentos, Qarth, Volantis, Meereen and Sunspear. She wasn’t sure she was <em> from </em> somewhere. She felt like she was from everywhere and <em> nowhere </em> at the same time, like a tree that could never set her roots deep enough to really grow somewhere, like a tree stuck in a pot, imprisoned somewhere that wasn’t its place. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, where is the last place you felt like home?” he asked with a disarming simplicity, like it was the easiest question to ask and the easiest question to answer. He moved and leaned against the deep red loveseat already covered in white fur, his eyes never leaving her. </p><p> </p><p>Images of a big house with a red door and lemon trees outside her window assaulted her memory, momentarily replacing the small white house and the wooden swing. It filled her with the sweetness and belonging of a <em> home </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was the <em> easiest </em> question to answer after all <em> . </em></p><p> </p><p>“Braavos,” she responded gently, without specifying she was only <em> seven </em> the last time she really felt like home outside of her own mind outside of <em> him </em>.  </p><p> </p><p>“Daenerys,” he started, waiting for her to look him in the eye before continuing, an unbearable softness in his, “it looks like you are from <em> Braavos </em> to me.” </p><p> </p><p>Daenerys smiled at him then, shaking her head at the stranger simply telling her where she came from, not knowing how much she had always wanted to belong … in a place or with <em> someone. </em> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Home would always remain nothing more than a memory for her.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The memory of Bravos and the red door, of <em> him </em> in the back of her mind. This, right now, was the closest she ever was from feeling it again.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry you had to stay up this late for me to pick up Ghost,” he said, scratching the back of his head, setting more strands of black curls loose around his face, looking suddenly wilder.  </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay,” she assured, she had no idea what time it was anyway, she just knew the sun as set some time ago, she just knew she didn’t really want to go to sleep with this mess still around, “it forced me to start unpacking.” </p><p> </p><p>She saw Jon look over the mess around them, trying to restrain himself from saying anything about it but she could still see the doubt in the slight moves of his eyebrows and the way his hand stopped moving against his neck, surprised by her statement. </p><p> </p><p>“It looks worse than it is,” she assured, trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince him. There were empty card boxes, wrapping paper and some balls she made out of tape littering the floor, covering every surface it could. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was a disaster.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Good,” he started, pushing a ball of tape with the toe of his shoe, “because it looks like the apocalypse to me.”</p><p> </p><p>He was right. </p><p> </p><p>She didn’t have anything to add to his statement because if she had to imagine the apocalypse right now … it <em> would </em> involve drowning in cardboard and wrapping paper. She sighed, thinking about all the things she still has to do tomorrow. </p><p> </p><p>“We don’t need to acknowledge it out loud,” she whispered, choosing to ignore everything around them a little bit longer, focusing her attention on him and the singular way the light was shading his face. He had a scar around his right eye, mingling with the crow’s feet at the corner of it. He had another one crossing his face from his left eye to his cheek, accentuating the darkness of his eye. </p><p> </p><p>For a surprising second, she wanted to touch it, to know if it felt like her own scar; rugged, rough and cold.</p><p> </p><p><em> So cold </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Before she could make a complete fool out of herself and reach for it, he called his dog-wolf back to the door, thanking her again for keeping an eye on him. </p><p> </p><p>He was leaving. </p><p> </p><p>She smiled at him, her hand firmly on the handle of the door to be sure she wouldn’t touch anything she wasn’t supposed to touch …<em> like a scar. </em></p><p> </p><p>She watched his retreating form for a second, his silhouette aiming for the absolute darkness of the night. </p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight, <em> Mr. Snow </em>,” she called back. She didn’t miss how fast he turned back toward her or the face he made. She barely had time to see it, but it was just enough for her to note the mix of surprise and disgust.</p><p> </p><p>She laughed, sliding the glass door close, still watching him. </p><p> </p><p>Arya and Gendry were right; he didn’t like it. </p><p> </p><p>___  </p><p> </p><p>Daenerys Targaryen was a morning person. </p><p> </p><p>She liked the idea of being up before everybody else, as if she was alone in a word that was on pause just for her. Everything was a mess and everything was going too fast outside those few minutes in the early morning, with the sunlight barely hitting the horizon. </p><p> </p><p>Those minutes of dawn were a <em> perfect </em>moment of peace. </p><p> </p><p>They were a tiny window of time when she could just exist and forget everything. </p><p> </p><p>Those minutes were <em> hers </em>, she never had to share them with anyone else. </p><p> </p><p>With a steaming cup of coffee and a blanket in hand, she went to the porch, her eyes glued to the parcel of sky she could spot between the orange leaves and the pine trees. Dawn had never felt as magical as right now, right here for her. Sunrises have a unique colouring to them, a rich hue she finds far more beautiful than sunsets; they were full of golden light, painting everything around them with brightness, embracing the horizon like they were long lost lovers. </p><p> </p><p>It was the colours of <em> beginnings </em>. </p><p> </p><p>She sat down on the swing, looking around her to make sure she committed to memory the way every ray of lights hit the branch trees and reflect on the dew in the grass. She wanted to remember everything, and frame this moment in her mind to be able to look back at it for the perfection it was, to look back at it in the worst of times.  </p><p> </p><p>It was important. It was the first sunrise of the rest of her life, after all.  </p><p> </p><p>She curled up into her soft dark grey blanket, holding her coffee while setting it on the knee of her bent leg. She pushed herself gently with her other leg, rocking and enjoying the cold air on her face. The wind seemed to play music with the leaves and dance with the grass and the trees. It filled the emptiness in her mind in a way few other things could. </p><p> </p><p>It was <em> temporary. </em>She knew it was. She was relieved anyway.</p><p> </p><p>Trying to fill the void he left in her felt like trying to fill a sink with no stopper; it could work for a while, for a <em> short </em>amount of time if the moment were strong enough, but it could never work for long. It was always temporary. </p><p> </p><p>This moment felt strong enough to fill <em> his </em>silence for a bit. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “It’s up to you to fill this emptiness you described in your mind. Now that he’s gone, the only thing that could inhabit the empty space is your own thoughts Daenerys. Why keep it vacant when you know he will never come back?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Tyrion was right. He always seemed to be right in the most infuriating and painful way imaginable. </p><p> </p><p>She still refused to listen to him on this matter. She was the master of her own mind, of the madness she could let in. </p><p> </p><p>She keeps this corner of her mind vacant like people keep summer houses empty in the brink of winter. It was a space she could always go to remember him, to feel like home for a while. The darkness and the silence feel threatening sometimes… and other times it felt like her safe place. She needed it like that.</p><p> </p><p>She <em> never </em> wanted to completely fill the space he left behind. She still needed to leave this side of her mind empty, as a reminder he existed there for more than 20 years of her life. </p><p> </p><p>Whenever this <em> black hole </em>he left in her mind started acting up and tried to suck her in its infinite darkness, she filled it with small memories, with sounds and smells, with things she wished she could send his way, with things she wished she could share. </p><p> </p><p>She filled it with the sound of a train passing by or the sound of waves crashing on a rocky beach; with the smell of freshly brewed coffee or the smell of clean linen. She filled it with everything that could calm the aching and yearning in every part of her mind that was never <em> his </em>. </p><p> </p><p>For her, filling his emptiness was never a way of moving on. Moving on was only thinking about him fondly, about everything they had instead of thinking about everything they could never have now that he was gone. She couldn’t do it yet. </p><p> </p><p>She was <em> almost </em> there. </p><p> </p><p>In front of her, the main cottage looked like a silhouette in the backlight, splitting the sunshine around it. She could only discern the old stones covered in vines around what look like a sunroom made of glass. </p><p> </p><p>It was a shame it was on the west side of the house. It could never see the best part of the day. </p><p> </p><p>She was so used to being alone with the dawn that she almost jumped when she could distinguish movement behind the glass walls, a shadow walking against a flickering light, a masculine presence in her usual lonely mornings. </p><p> </p><p>It was Jon. </p><p> </p><p>He waved at her as soon as he got out of his back door, a dark form in a blooming light. Ghost sprinted past him, and passed her house to go into the woods behind the small white house. </p><p> </p><p>She waved back with the tips of her fingers, barely lifting her arm to keep the blanket from sliding down her arms.  </p><p> </p><p>Well, it seems she would’ve had to share those first minutes of morning after all. </p><p> </p><p>The thought should have filed her with dread, but it filed her with nothing but a fluttering eagerness like she just didn’t know all along she <em> wanted </em>to share it with someone, she wanted to feel the wonder of new beginning with someone that could enjoy the promises it offers, enjoy the pureness of it all.  </p><p> </p><p>“Early bird?” he asked as a way of greeting when he was close enough not to shout, not to disturb the calmness of the morning. </p><p> </p><p>“Morning is the best moment of my days,” she softly answered, almost in a whisper. She wanted to bask in the moment, in the multitude of sounds around them creating something more peaceful than silence could ever be for her.</p><p> </p><p>“Care to join?” she asked with a move of her chin pointing to the empty space beside her. He smiled at her and sat down on the creaking porch swing, rocking them slowly. He smelled like soap, musk and coffee. His hairs were still damp from his early shower, drops of water dripping from his curls to his long sleeves henley. The cold didn’t seem to affect him at all.     </p><p> </p><p>He looked softer. She couldn’t say how, but he did. It could be in the way his curly hairs were completely loose around his face, almost gracing his shoulder, or in the specks of dark caramel she could now see in the brown of his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>They were <em> definitely </em> brown. </p><p> </p><p>In the morning lights, he had more smooth edges than angles. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was even more breathtaking. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Without really thinking about it, she filled her empty space with him, with the images of the sun hitting his eyes with the softest of light, colouring his hair with copper and silver, with his smile and his pouty lips. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A memory among many others.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She lifted her leg, curling it under the other one and letting him push them gently on the swing. The breeze was bringing to her the strong aroma of his coffee, making her take another sip of her own before it got cold. </p><p> </p><p>There was a familiarity to him, to his presence around her. He was <em> comfortable </em> in a way she couldn’t explain, in a way she was choosing to keep unnamed. </p><p> </p><p>“Wanna know a secret?” she asked, turning toward him at the same time as him. </p><p> </p><p> He smiled again, that <em> memory-worthy </em> smile framing his molten chocolate eyes with small creases that proves how often he must smile only with them. <em> Those creases.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Always,” he said, his chin in his free hand and his fingers running along the beard on the edge of his jaw. </p><p> </p><p>“I never saw <em> real </em>fall before,” she said simply, her eyes looking around them to spot every small detail she could only associate with the fall she only saw in movies, in memories that wasn’t her own; the grass and leaves discolouring to rich yellow, orange and red, enveloping the horizon in a fiery dream. When she looked back at him, she could read the question in his eyes. “with that much colour and coldness,” she specified. </p><p> </p><p>Jon looked over the yard and she could see he was trying to see it from her perspective, with her eyes, for the first time. She hoped he could see the magnificence of it all.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it as you expected?” he asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Better,” she answered, taking the last sip of her coffee. </p><p> </p><p>“Dawn is over,” she lamented after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence when she saw that the sun was completely over the horizon. <em> The day has started.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“And?” he asked. </p><p> </p><p>“That means the world didn’t stop turning for us, Jon Snow,” she said with a note of regret in her voice. The world gives her those minutes of dawn and she had to be satisfied with that. </p><p> </p><p><em> It will be back tomorrow. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“Do you want any help with your apocalypse?” he casually asked. He was almost <em> too </em>casual, too relaxed, like nothing could really ruffle him … as if he were calm in every possible situation.</p><p> </p><p>She looked at him from the corner of her eyes for a bit. He was looking at her, his empty cup of coffee hanging from the tip of his finger, waiting for an answer while she was trying to decipher if he genuinely wanted to help her or not. </p><p> </p><p>“Daenerys?” He asked, dragging every syllable of her name in that sinful Northern accent of his when she was too slow to answer his question. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Those Northerners were impatient.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I’m giving you <em> time </em> to rethink that offer,” she said with her hands moving around her, “because I won’t be one of those people that <em> tastefully </em>declines help for the sake of being an independent woman.” </p><p> </p><p>He laughed again. She almost felt the vibration of it on the swing, like a small earthquake only she could feel. </p><p> </p><p>“Good,” he said, “I’m not one of those people that offer help <em> hoping </em> you would say no.”  </p><p> </p><p>He rubbed his palms on his tight before getting up, offering her a hand to follow him and stop mourning the end of the dawn, and start living the beginning of the day. </p><p> </p><p>“I would appreciate some help,” she confirmed, taking his hand while tightening the blanket around her shoulder, “thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>He only answered with a smile, shrugging his shoulder like it was no big deal, like he didn’t just offer to help a complete stranger. He opened the sliding door and looked at her over his shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“Now I’ll have the chance to see where you hide your valuable stuff before I rob you,” he cheekily said, earning a laugh from her. </p><p> </p><p>___</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Daenerys shrieked, leaning over the guardrail of her bedroom, barely able to see him below the loft. She could only see one of his shoulders moving with his silent laugh while he was organizing her law books with meticulous care in the built-in shelves around the minuscule fireplace.</p><p> </p><p>She should have known the conversation was heading in that direction. </p><p> </p><p>“There is no such thing as a <em> giant deer </em> ,” he repeated, apparently not moved by her outcry. He backed away from the shelves for a step or two to look up at her with a smirk on his face, almost <em> daring </em> her to say anything else. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m telling you there is! I saw one,” she said with narrow eyes. Her silver braid slipped in front of her shoulder and dangled in the open air. </p><p> </p><p>“You just made a rookie move and got yourself out of the road, Dany” he said, matter-of-factly. </p><p> </p><p>“I did not,” she huffed, throwing a ball of tape at him. He stepped aside and avoided it with so much ease she had to roll her eyes at him. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Infuriating.   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Admit it,” he said, putting the ball of tape in one of the trash bags around him like she didn’t just try to aim it directly at his smug face. </p><p> </p><p>She shook her head vigorously, gesturing in front of her lips, like she just zipped them shut, refusing to admit anything, refusing to talk anymore. He could make fun of her as much as he wanted, she was <em> almost </em> sure it was a <em> giant deer.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He shrugged his shoulders, humming at her with mischief in his eyes. It was the same mischief she had seen in Arya’s eyes the day before. If she didn’t already know they were related, she would have been sure of it after that glint of pure amusement. </p><p> </p><p>She resisted the urge to throw something else at him as they went back to their respective task. It almost looked like a normal house now; it survived the apocalypse and she’ll be able to go to sleep peacefully, knowing she didn’t have a mountain of boxes to sort through anymore. She was one step closer to feel like it was home.</p><p> </p><p>She was putting away the last of her clothes on the coat rack in the corner of the loft, the rest of it neatly folded in the drawers under the bed, when she heard her phone ring in the living room. </p><p> </p><p>“It will be difficult to answer that … now that you zipped your lips shut,” Jon deadpanned below, shaking her phone in his hand. </p><p> </p><p>She couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping her lips as she crouched down to take the phone he was extending to her. </p><p> </p><p>She was still laughing when she accepted the video call from Viserys. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Vis! Can I call you back? I’m finishing unpacking with Jon,” she said, looking at his pixelated face coming into focus.</p><p> </p><p>“Who the <em> fuck </em> is Jon?” he asked, getting closer to the camera of his phone, his nose scrunch, “and why are you <em> smiling </em>like that?” </p><p> </p><p>She could see the sudden interest in the way he shaked the phone and the lift at the corner of his own lips. He was probably trying to contain his excitement at the idea of having something new to relently tease her with. </p><p> </p><p>Dany rolled her eyes fondly at her brother, sitting down on the floor, her legs over the ladder leading to the loft. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s not a murderer, not a psychopath, nor a robber,” she stated, “I asked.” </p><p> </p><p>She looked over her phone at Jon just in time to see him shake his head, mumbling something about her just <em> assuming </em>he was neither of those things … never asking. </p><p> </p><p>He offered her a toothy grin and she bites her lips to contain her smile, not wanting Viserys to call her out on it again. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re smiling again—” </p><p> </p><p>“Jon is my new neighbour,” she interrupted, glaring at him, “he offered me some help like a gentleman. You wouldn’t know what it looks like.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wasn’t she allowed to smile?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I know exactly what gentleman gestures look like Little Dragon,” he said with a disgusted look, “it looks <em> boring </em> . I don’t <em> do </em> boring.” </p><p> </p><p>Dany opened her mouth to answer him, but closed it back when she heard Arianne’s voice in the background, not able to see her with Viserys so close to his camera. “Is he hot?” she asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Show him to us,” Viserys demanded wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> He </em> can totally hear you both,” she warned, knowing it won’t bother either of them, “I will not let you objectify him on the <em> first day </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Viserys looked at her for so long, she would have wondered if the screen had frozen if it had not been for the blinking of his eyes. He was trying to <em> read </em> her, like only him could do. </p><p> </p><p>He smirked when she averted her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That bastard.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Whatever,” he said, “We’ll talk about it later… when you’re alone.” </p><p> </p><p>“Or not,” she said, hanging up the phone before he could say anything else. She threw her phone on the newly made bed. </p><p> </p><p>She looked down at Jon. He was sitting on the red loveseat, looking back at her, visibly amused by what just went down with Viserys. </p><p> </p><p>That man would <em> never </em>change but she was done getting embarrassed by Viserys’s antics. She got to the conclusion years ago, that she would die of mortification if she kept caring about everything going out of his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry about that,” she still said, “brothers.” </p><p> </p><p>She said it as if that word was the most complete explanation she could give. Maybe it <em> was </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Rhaegar was never like that with her, but he had been so much older, so much stuck in his own pain. She wasn’t even sure he had it in him to joke around and mess with her, if he had it in him to love her in that way Viserys always did. </p><p> </p><p><em> Sadness </em> took over his life way before she was sent to live with him. She has no memory of him truly happy … not even when Elia and the kids were still alive, like <em> the pull </em> was bringing him into darkness way before his severed bond.  </p><p> </p><p>“Embarrassing our sisters is the best part of being a brother,” Jon said, getting her out of her memories. </p><p> </p><p>She didn’t know anything about him, about the number of sisters he had or about the choices he made in his life. Jon Snow was a stranger, a mystery … and yet she could picture it like a movie; she could see Jon bugging his sisters, poking at them until they beg him to stop. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no,” she scoffed, going down the ladder and joining him on the couch. </p><p> </p><p>She was a moth and he was an open flame. </p><p> </p><p>“I stopped being embarrassed by Viserys years ago,” she assured him. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t <em> ever </em> tell my sisters how you did it,” He pleaded with her, turning his head against the back cushion to look at her, a lazy smile on his lips. </p><p> </p><p>“Deal,” she said, holding out her hand to him, still surprised by the warmth of his, by the almost <em> familiarity </em> of it. If he noticed her keeping his hand longer than necessary, he didn’t say anything, his thumb running over her knuckles. <em> Once </em>.         </p><p> </p><p>He closed his eyes, his face still turned toward her and she tried not to commit more of him into her memory. She didn’t need <em> this … </em> whatever <em> this </em> was. She <em> absolutely </em>didn’t need to remember the way his hair was falling over his eyes or the way his mouth was turned down a little at the corner of his lips when he wasn’t smiling. </p><p> </p><p>She averted her eyes for a moment and looked around her new space; her books were perfectly aligned in the shelves around the fireplace, her kitchen was fully functional and there were only a couple of boxes waiting for her attention in the corner of the room. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It was perfect.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Jon,” she whispered, looking back at him, her cheek against the back cushions. </p><p> </p><p>He hummed at her, urging her to continue. His eyes were still closed and his lips were stretching into another one of his lazy smiles. </p><p> </p><p>“I want to go out to eat,” she said in a soft whisper toward him. He opened his eyes, not moving anything other than one of his eyebrows. “And you’re driving us there,” she concluded, her eyes not leaving his even when she started moving to get out of the couch. </p><p> </p><p>He groaned at her like a wolf in a grown man’s body. </p><p> </p><p>She took his hands in hers, pulling on them to raise him from his seat. She wasn’t even able to move an inch of his body. He was an immovable tree rooted in her living room.  </p><p> </p><p>“Come on!” she groaned back at him. </p><p> </p><p>He chuckled at that and stopped resisting. She managed to pull him up with little effort. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you always this bossy?” he asked her, gathering all his hair in a bun at the back of his head. She had half a mind to tell him to leave them be; there was something wild and free about his untamed curls that she liked. </p><p> </p><p>He followed her to the door and offered his arm to help her balance herself to put her boots on. <em> Gentleman indeed.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“I am not lacking in leadership if that’s what you mean by <em> bossy </em>,” she countered, a playful grin on her lips, gently pushing him out of the door.  </p><p> </p><p>They got out of the house and something inside her already missed it. All of her life she had been surrounded by welt and immense properties. She had never imagined that what she needed may be a small space to make her own nest.</p><p> </p><p>She just needed a smaller place to <em> grow </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” he mumbled, “That was exactly what I meant.”</p><p> </p><p>They walked side by side to his black SUV. He wasn’t actually protesting much about the turn of events. She spun on herself one last time with her hand on Jon’s forearm to look at the tiny house lost in its own forest. </p><p> </p><p>“I think I’ll like it here,” she said out loud. It was more for her than him, but he smiled down at her anyway, slowing his strides to let her take the time to look around … to look at him.  </p><p> </p><p><em> It was perfect. </em>   </p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I will take a small break from this baby for the next month because I am working on my Christmas Fic for the Jonerys Advent Calendar Event!</p><p>Add on the 28th of November : the beautiful, beautiful artwork is a commission made to the Amazing @dragonanddirewolf !! Give her some love</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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